Shadows of Destiny
by Silver Spider
Summary: With the promise of new life tainted by her family's bloody past, Robyn Canmore goes looking for answers. “Bad Guys”-inspired one-shot. Robyn/Dingo. Tied to "Nightcaps", "Altered Paths", and "Bonds of Blood and Water"


_**Author's Note:**_ I know I usually say that my Bad Guys fics are 'loosly' tied together, but in this case this one will be hard to follow if you haven't read "Bonds of Blood and Water". It deals with first Jason working with Macbeth (or Lennox McDuff, as he knows him), Robyn wanting to make sure the brother she has left is working with the right person, and also her worrying about the legacy she'll be giving to her unborn child. This fic takes place about 3½ months after "Bonds of Blood and Water". P.S. Football = soccer. We're in Europe, folks. Enjoy and please review!

**Shadows of Destiny**

**By: Silver Spider**

Part of the reason Robyn Canmore was such a workaholic was because she had learned at a young age that if she exhausted herself past a certain point, she did not have to dream and thus did not see her father's body flying off the top of Notre Dame cathedral and other less than pleasant memories every night. Leading the Redemption Squad and later her relationship with Dingo had done Robyn a world of good because she had allowed herself to let go of at least some of the tragedies of her past and sleep more peacefully.

Her upcoming motherhood had changed all that. More frequently than not, she found herself jolted from sleep by nightmares whose origins she could not even remember by the time her senses returned to her. _Anxiety_, she told herself, but Robyn seriously doubted this was just another normal symptom of pregnancy like cravings and morning sickness. And this time she could not exactly control her sleeping habits as well. A few days ago Robyn found herself asleep at her computer, work that she had meant to finish hours ago still undone. That had lead to a day-long foul mood, and everyone in the squad, especially Dingo, suffered.

When Jason had called her last week saying that he would be in Paris for a few days, she had been excited both to see her brother and for the distraction. Several universities in Europe were holding conferences on the subject of gargoyles, and he was traveling with professor Lennox McDuff who was scheduled to speak at many of them. Because he knew nothing – though more likely than not suspected something – about her work with the Redemption Squad, Robyn had met him several times for lunch and dinner during his stay. Tonight, however, her brother had apparently made other plans.

"I'm still having trouble wrapping my brain around you and Jason as friends for some reason," she shook her head and wiped her grease stained hands on her jeans. They were in one of the lower levels of the squad's headquarters, and Robyn was determined to finally fix the ever-present leak in their new helicopter. "Any particular plans for your boys' night out?"

"The usual," Dingo shrugged. "Hittin' the bars and watchin' the game. French football team is playin' the Greeks."

"If they win, Paris is going to be in an uproar," Robyn pointed out, fully aware how sacred football games were in Europe. "We lived here for a while as kids, so Jason'll be rooting for the French. And knowing you, that means you're probably rooting for the Greeks."

"Probably," he grinned. "We'd invite you to break the tie, but..."

"Don't even say it," Robyn warned him. Smoke-filled Parisian bars were not exactly the healthiest environments for a pregnant woman, and she did not like to be reminded of all the things she could not do anymore. The list seemed to be growing longer by the day.

"What'll you be doin' without us men around to bother you?"

"Log in a few hours of training and go to bed early," she replied nonchalantly, and he gave her a look. "I have to stay in shape. Especially now."

"Just take it easy," his tone indicated that they had had this argument many times before.

"You know me," she smiled innocently.

"Yeah, I do. Take it easy."

She should have known that taking his advice was a bad idea. After only an hour of less than graceful flips and shooting at harmless floating targets that did not even shoot back anymore, Robyn decided to call it a night more out of boredom than any real exhaustion. She tossed and turned for a little while, and when sleep finally came it was anything but peaceful.

In her dream, she walked through an empty back void with blood-red slashes across the sky. Not knowing what to think or expect, she stopped, looking around the surreal environment with no small amount of trepidation. Silhouettes began to coalesce out of the darkness. They were both men and women, and their uniforms varied from fairly modern to clearly ancient, but the mask was always the same.

Hunters.

Instinctively she stepped back and nearly bumped into a small figure a step behind her. Unlike the generations of her ancestors, this one was still shrouded in darkness, but Robyn knew who it was supposed to be. In front of her, the Hunters as one removed their masks, and she managed to recognize some faces. Her father was there, as was Jon, her little brother. The two men in front she did not recognize, but judging from their garb, Robyn though that perhaps these were Duncan and Malcolm Canmore. The ones who started it all.

"No!" she hissed at the assembled group, reaching behind her to wrap a protective arm around the small figure. "You can't have him!"

"The child of our blood," said the specter she thought to be Malcolm Canmore.

"Belongs to us," Duncan agreed.

"It is our destiny as Canmores, Robyn," her father echoed the words he had spoken nearly two decades ago.

"Your destiny nearly killed Jason," she wanted to scream, but even in her dream she could not bring herself to raise her voice to her father, "and took Jonny from us. You will _not_ take my child!"

Robyn bolted awake covered in a cold sweat, one hand instantly going to cover the small but growing curve of her abdomen while the other reached across to the other side of the bed only to find it empty. She frowned a little before it came back to her. Right. Male bonding. She supposed she should have been grateful there was none to ask questions about the nightmare, but she could not help feeling just a little lonely.

Robyn scoffed as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was really getting spoiled. Fortunately there was still a perfectly good way to get her mind refocused and blow off some steam at the same time. The training room was only accessible to members of the squad, and to ensure this, there was an iris scanner at the door. Robyn stopped and looked directly into the small camera, which made a buzzing noise as it identified her.

"Access denied," came the computer's automated response.

_What on Earth...?_

She tried again and again received the same answer. Frustrated, Robyn was about to try a manual override when she heard Yama's heavy footsteps coming down the hallway. Her second-in-command rounded a corner, obviously also on his way to train.

"There's something wrong with the door," she pointed an accusing finger at the computer.

"No, there is not. The entry mechanism has been modified to allow you access for no more than two hours a day," the gargoyle explained patiently.

"You can't be serious," she was appalled. Yama said nothing. "None of you are particularly tech-savvy, so who put Matrix up to this?" No sooner had the question left her lips then the answer came to her. "Harry."

Yama nodded, and she sighed. "You people need to stop walking on eggshells around me."

"Pardons, but this is not 'walking on eggshells'. This is merely enforcing what you should be doing without our interference."

"This squad isn't a gargoyle clan," she objected. "Parenting is not communal."

"That is why it was Dingo who requested the change to the entrance mechanism... Oneesan," he added wryly.

Robyn's brow twitched. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're making fun of me, Yama."

"Never," the gargoyle cracked a rare smile. "Perhaps some fresh air will do you good."

The air helped, but Robyn was still feeling restless even after the long walk. Paris was dead quiet, no doubt because everyone was either in restaurants or bars watching the game. The weather was getting cool, so she had tossed on a navy blue trench coat. Not planning to look for trouble, she wore normal civilian clothes, but the Hunter's mask was still tucked into her coat pocket for good measure.

More and more often her thoughts were drawn to her family, both the one she already had in her elder brother – it hurt to think about Jonny – and the one she would soon have in her child. No matter what happened, she could not loose what little she had. Which lead her back to Jason and his current employment. She had made a mental note back when he had first told her that he would be working along side McDuff to check the man out, not because she thought the man was particularly bad news, but because there was definitely something odd about him, and she wanted to be absolutely sure the one brother she had left was working with the right person.

_This isn't called 'looking for trouble'_, Robyn reasoned as she turned to head for the chateau she knew McDuff owned in the center of the city. _Chances are, he's not even home. Besides, how much trouble could an old man really be?_

The first thing that came to mind as she broke the security code on his McDuff's front door was why someone who, in Robyn's mind, claimed to be nothing more than a glorified schoolteacher, needed this much security. She supposed it could be against anti-gargoyle fanatics who would find that his work threatened their cause, but somehow she doubted it. The Quarrymen had only existed for a few years and were centered in the States. The man was either paranoid or had other things to fear. Still, to err on the side of caution and give any cameras still active something else to see, she pilled her mask over her face.

Security did let up slightly once she made it inside. On the inside the house was quiet beautiful, decorated with many priceless-looking paintings and even a few tapestries surely belong in museums. Many things about the artifacts he owned conveyed the strong sense of his Scottish heritage that Robyn could certainly appreciate. One of the items in particular that caught her attention was a heavy gold signal beautify presented behind a glass display with markings in ancient Gaelic she could not make out.

Upon making her way up to his study, Robyn solidified two more facts she already knew to be true; the man was both very wealthy and intelligent. In his library she found books in first edition she would have thought lost forever. They were on every subject imaginable, from history and mythology to science and technology. It was nearly impossible in an age where information was almost limitless, but he seemed to be a true Renaissance Man. Current papers on gargoyles and other subjects were scattered across his desk.

It was at a seemingly innocuous empty wall that she finally stopped. Something about it looked off. She reached out and touched the plaster then knocked on it. Hollow. She frowned but did not get the chance to explore it further when she heard the sound of some sort of weapon powered behind her.

"Well," came an accented voice. "It's been a long time since I've been hunted. Be a good lass and turn around. Slowly."

She did as she was told, raising her hands and displaying her empty palms. Robyn had seen McDuff on television and in research magazines, but the man that stood before her did not resemble that image. The face was the same, but the black coat and armor made him look more ready for battle than seminar talks. His gray-blue eyes narrowed for an instant.

"Let us bargain," the man suggested. "I put down my gun, and you take off your mask." She made no move to comply. Finally, he sighed and replaced the taser anyway. Robyn raised a single brow questioningly. "I'm not seriously going to shoot a woman with child."

_How did..._ She looked down at herself to see that her coat had come loose and the fabric of her shirt stretched slightly against the small swell on her belly. _Fantastic,_ Robyn thought sarcastically. _Even the targets are making special cases for me now._

"A different approach then," he leaned against his desk, arms crossed. "Let's say I make an educated guess as to your identity, and you tell me whether I'm right. Humm?"

She did not reply, and he must have taken it for affirmation.

"Alright, so you're a hunter," he began. "I know something of hunters. Goes hand in hand with the study of gargoyles. There have always been hunters as long as mankind had the imagination to make monsters out of thin air. But you're not just a hunter, are you? If I had to guess, I'd say you're _the_ Hunter... and a fellow Scott."

"I haven't said anything," Robyn pointed out, but she did not bother to disguise her accent.

"That doesn't mean I'm wrong," he smiled. "_The_ Hunters have their origins in mid eleventh century Scotland. Rumor has it they're even descendant from royalty. So the next logical question to ask is: should I fire my research assistant for his sister breaking into my home in the middle of the night?"

For a long moment Robyn was too stunned for words. It did not even occur to her to lie or deny anything when she finally pulled off the mask and opened her mouth to speak.

"Jason doesn't know I'm here."

The man studied her then smiled again. "I believe you. Now, if I've sufficiently impressed you with my knowledge and deductive skills, would you care to tell me what you want here? I was under the impression that you were the good sibling."

"I am."

Just how much _had_ Jason told this man about their family? It was out of character for her brother to be so open with a stranger, enough that the professor apparently knew some details about her and Jon. Still the man had an air about him that that put even Robyn at ease. McDuff extended a hand, indicating for her to take a seat at the small coffee table across the room and seated himself on the sofa at its right. His taser gun remained behind on the desk, which again slightly stunned Robyn. Without his weapon, she was fairly sure she could take him on in hand-to-hand combat if need be. She might have been four months pregnant, but he looked to be about in his mid fifties.

"I just wanted to make sure my brother was working with the right person," she admitted, sitting down. "It's possible I didn't go about it in the best way."

"The front door and normal business hours would have been better," McDuff agreed. "I don't know exactly what you mean by 'right person', but I can assure you I don't mean you or your brother any harm. Jason has been a pleasure to have around. He's very bright and eager to learn."

"But if you knew he was a former Hunter, why did you agree to take him on as a student?" it was the first question that popped into her head. "Considering your pro-gargoyle stance."

"A better question might be why a former Hunter would wish to work with me," the professor replied. "I'd like to clarify that I'm not pro or against anyone. But life has taught me that knowledge is power and that people deserve the benefit of the doubt. That's why I teach and why I agreed to work with your brother. And I think the curiosity was mutual, though of course Jason is not aware of as much as you currently are. I'd prefer to keep it that way, if you don't mind."

She nodded. "How did you find out about gargoyles? You've obviously been studying them for far longer than they have been exposed to the public."

The man was thoughtful for a moment.

"I understand that you have questions, Robyn," the lack of formality should have offended her on some level, but it really did not. "I will tell you everything truthfully and to the best of my abilities, but if I refuse to answer something, you must respect that. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"Very well. I have known about them nearly all my life, much like yourself. When your brother Jon exposed them to the world, I saw the opportunity to repay my debt for the misunderstandings and less than pleasant encounters I have had with some of them in the past."

"Less than pleasant encounters with..."

"The Manhattan clan."

That made sense, though hardly explained how he knew so much about... everything. Even if he was in his early sixties – she highly doubted he was that old – the knowledge he possessed seemed like it would have taken many lifetimes to compile. On impulse she asked.

"Are you a member of the Illuminati?"

He was genuinely surprised by the question. "I won't pretend I never heard of them, but no, I am not a member. What makes you think that I would be?"

She mentally kicked herself for even asking because now she was forced to give some kind of explanation as to where the question had come from. Robyn thought about just how much she should say, but it felt wrong to withhold or lie to the man who had thus far been nothing but courteous and honest with her.

"You obviously know a lot, Mr. McDuff," she said. "So much so that I have to wonder when you had the time to gather this much knowledge. The society has ways of prolonging life and offers this service its high-ranking members."

"You think that I'm some kind of... immortal?" his eyes sparkled with amusement. "Lass, I've lived long enough to know better than to wish for that sort of thing. No, I'm not associated with the Illuminati."

It was not lost on her that while he denied membership on the secret society, McDuff never actually said anything about his real age. Robyn suspected that if she asked directly, it would be the kind of question he would refuse to answer. Because she really did not wish to argue with the man, she went for something else.

"Just how much do you know about my family?"

"More than you do, I'd wager," he laughed. "I heard of you and your brothers from Mr. Xanatos and the Manhattan clan, but I've been aware of your family history for some time. Your line sprung from Duncan and Malcolm Canmore of Scotland. They were two of the earliest Hunters."

"I know that," she snapped unintentionally. "But what started all this? We hunted them to avenge our father's death, but why did Duncan or Malcolm Canmore take up the hunt? Gargoyles were commonplace in those days."

"Unfortunately so was prejudice," he looked as if he was considering just what to say. "Duncan, and Canmore after him, feared the gargoyles and saw them as a threat because they could not control them. I don't know the details of why the hunt continued, but I believe your own tragic history is a clue to that; children wanting to avenge parents who died in the hunt, and it became more of a cycle of vengeance than anything else."

"You talk as if you know," she mused.

"Of vengeance? I know plenty of that."

"Of everything. I've never heard anyone speak of my family with such... certainty. When we were all still Hunters, Jason always talked with a great deal of fervor, but it was always drawn from our father's death. The question of how it began did not even cross our minds till now."

"At least it did eventually. From my perspective, that speaks volumes of you."

He rose from his seat and returned to the desk. For a moment Robyn tensed, thinking that maybe he had changed his mind and decided to retrieve the taser after all. When he returned with a pot of tea and two cups, she relaxed again. This whole time she had been trying to figure out what about this man made her want to speak so openly.. Robyn was more than a little thrown when she realized that it was because something about him reminded her of her father. She wondered if Jason felt it too.

Robyn took the warm cup he offered gratefully.

"How much of what you just told me does Jason know?"

"Nothing. Unlike yourself, your brother is not nearly as suspicious of people's motives."

"And what are they precisely? Your motives."

"I told you before, I mean your family no harm."

"But you also said Jason is a curiosity for you. That sort of comment doesn't exactly make me feel better. I know what he wants to learn from you, but what is it you want from him?"

"Merely confirmation on what you have both displayed already; that there is some honor left in the line of kings."

"That line has been haunting me for the past few months," Robyn muttered to herself, but he obviously overheard her because he raised a brow. "I have dreams that they come for my child."

"Only if you let them," his smile was warm. "They're only ghosts, Robyn. I, for one, would not concern myself even if it were otherwise. A fop like Duncan would be no match for you."

Despite his praise, the comment struck an odd cord with her. He spoke of her ancestor as if he was not a historical figure from the distant past but an old schoolyard bully he had had the misfortune of knowing in person. For all his appeal, there was still something about this man that bothered Robyn. She had allowed herself to relax, but now the logical wheals in her head were back in full motion.

What were the clues here? His wealth, knowledge, clearly deep interest in history, the comment about knowing better than to wish for immortality. He had particularly extensive knowledge about her family history and gargoyle/human interaction in mid-eleventh century Scotland. The way he spoke sometimes sounded like he had come from the middle ages himself. Who ever said 'with child' anymore? And finally there was that name. What had she said to Jason when he first told her he'd be working with the professor? _What are the chance a man ends up with a name like that?_ Duncan... Malcolm Canmore... She was missing someone.

"My God," Robyn stared at him in wide-eyed dawning realization. "You're... Macbeth!"

The man she had thought was nothing more than a harmless professor just moments ago pushed himself up and walked slowly back to his desk. When he spoke next, his back was to her.

"You do realize what you're suggesting is absurd."

"When all the reasonable options are rejected, the absurd is the next logical conclusion," he said nothing. "You promised you wouldn't lie to me."

"I also promised I would not answer _all_ of your questions."

"I'm not asking a question. I'm making a statement. You _are_ Macbeth of Scotland."

He stood still, drumming his fingers lightly against the smooth polished wood of the surface of his desk. When he finally turned, Robyn saw all pretenses of fall from his demeanor. There was indeed a regal look to this man.

"We have far too many acquaintances in common for me to successfully deny it if I tried," he said. "Yes, many lifetimes ago, I was King Macbeth of Scotland. Now I'm just Macbeth to those who know me and Lennox McDuff to the rest."

"But how can..." she did not even know what to say. "I know the history. Malcolm Canmore killed your son. Why are you so kind to me and Jason?"

"Would you have me hold the actions of a man more than nine hundred years dead against you?" he spread his hands. "Perhaps at some point I may have, but I meant what I said when I knew something of vengeance. It solves nothing, especially since you are in no way at fault, and I've had enough of kin slaying."

Robyn frowned momentarily until her history came back to her. Macbeth and Duncan had been cousins, sons of the daughters of Malcolm II. That made Macbeth a very _very_ distant great uncle to her and her brothers. It was so odd, yet once she knew, the kinship was instantaneous. A thousand other questions came to her, but Robyn was suddenly distracted. She tensed, concentrating.

"What is it?" the old man looked concerned.

"I think..." she was not sure, but the faint feeling soon came again. Robyn laughed in delight. "The baby just moved."

* * * * * * * * * *

She was still unsure why it was, but the conversation with Macbeth made her feel infinity better. By the time Robyn returned to her apartment at the squad's base less than an hour later, she was ready for some legitimate sleep. She was halfway there when the bed sagged behind her under Dingo's additional weight. He gathered her to him and wrapped his arms around her so that they lay in the spooning position.

"Wild night on the town over already?" Robyn teased, touching his arm lightly to let him know she was awake.

"Jason's got a thing in the morning," he replied. "And what are you doin' still up? 's almost dawn. This your definition of goin' to bed early?"

Robyn gave a noncommittal shrug. "I had some trouble sleeping, but I think I'll be alright now. Who won?" she asked with feigned interest.

"The French," Dingo tucked his chin into the curve of her neck and yawned. "It's kinda crazy out there right now."

"Here," she rolled over and took his large hand to place it on her abdomen. "Feel this. Consolation prize for your team loosing."

They both waited for a beat, and Dingo was about to ask what exactly he was supposed to be feeling when it came. Even in the limited lighting, Robyn could see the enormous grin. His entire face lit up in wonder and amazement.

"She's movin'!"

"Yes. _He_'s been at it all night," she informed him in a tone of mock complaint.

"I bet I can guess why," he chastised. "_She_'s wants her mama to take a break every once in a while."

"Mmm," she sighed and closed her eyes, "Maybe."

"Maybe? Are you actually _agreeing_ with me?"

Robyn successfully avoided having to answer because sleep had finally claimed her.

_**Author's End Note:**_ So a fun little tidbit: I was in Paris back in 2000 right when the French football team was playing the Greeks for the world championship. The French won, and Paris was literally at a stand-still. People were out in the streets screaming and calibrating. I remember walking along an overpass of a highway, and the line leading into the city center was completely jammed with cars like a parking lot and people were jumping out with painted faces and such. ^_^ Lotta fun.


End file.
